Musings of Minds
by dreamfandomist
Summary: A series of short Chelsie scenes. Mostly where one is thinking about the other but also bits of Chelsie life. And Charles has a hidden talent.
1. Scottish Rose

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I do not obtain any economic benefit out of them.**

**This is a series of snippets of Chelsie moments where the characters are thinking about each other. It's very experimental and I'm not sure what I'm doing with these two and I am yet to see what this leads to but hope you like it! I would very much like to hear what your ideas about this are. **

**Throughout the series we hear several wise quotes from both Charles and Elsie but those of Charles are of a more poetic nature. Here I have imagined the poet in Charles Carson writing about Elsie and what follows. **

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Chapter 1: Scottish Rose

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In her voice the gentle Highland winds

Come blowing upon my face.

In her smile a thousand stars on a clear night

Twinkles with silver light.

In the depths of her deep blue eyes

Where far away Scottish seas reside

I would drown quite happily

Every time they look upon mine.

Her hair, a richer shade

Than the finest wine I've known

Glistens in the dim evening light

Leaving me spell bound.

Her lips, oh those lovely lips!

I try my best to avoid

But every time I close my eyes

I stare at them in my dreams.

The prettiest Yorkshire roses

That boast the softest petals

Couldn't even try to compete

With those lips of her, so fine.

My darling Scottish rose

When can I call you mine?

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Engulfed in the gentle silence of the night, Mr Carson found himself scribbling these words on a piece of paper while he waited for Mrs Hughes who was summoned by Lady Grantham after dinner, as his thoughts drifted to the time that he spent in the past few days with Mrs Hughes looking at houses, mingled with memories from all the decades they spent working side by side. He wondered if she actually knew about the real purpose behind his business proposition. She always knew his thoughts even before he did and so he suspected that she did. But it also increased the number of times he thought about her.

A swift knock on his door and Mrs Hughes entered with a smile. He quickly crumbled the piece of paper fearing that she would see it.

"It was nothing very important. Something to do with keeping a few guest rooms ready," she said as she walked towards his desk.

"Oh was it?" was all he could say in reply.

"Hmm, yes," she replied and then immediately spotted the piece of paper crumpled in his hand.

"What's that?" she asked titling her head to a side and eyeing him suspiciously. And he knew that despite his years on the stage he was a hopeless liar. A good pretender maybe, but a hopeless liar.

"Oh just a few lists that I made. I was going to throw it away," he replied, hoping that the tips of his ears didn't turn red as in the other moments when he was feeling embarrassed or flustered.

"Alright," she replied yet not fully satisfied with his reply but choosing to ignore it, "I got a few short bread cookies from Mrs Patmore. Shall I fetch them?"

"Yes… Yes. That would be nice," he replied quickly and watched her leave with her usual swift yet graceful steps.

Quickly he spread out the paper and removed its creases. Then put it carefully inside a rather large book, smiling to himself. One day he would make her his, and then maybe he would give it to her. Not today. It would wait. But some day he would give it to her, better still, tell her all of it. Lay bare his heart. For the moment it can wait till he makes his Scottish Rose truly his.

"My Scottish Rose," he whispered to himself, smiling. Then shook his head and put the book away as he heard her approaching footsteps.

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**The End.**

**(Will most probably a few other Chelsie snippets posted under this as separate chapters!) **


	2. Dance of Souls

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I certainly do not obtain any economic benefits out of them. **

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Chapter 2: Dance of Souls

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To give into the dance of our souls

Finally, truly, completely

To let the symphony of our unbroken love

Break wide open the boundless skies

And spread wide open in the air

But a year turned to five

And five swiftly a decade

A decade became two

And crept up to three

But still our hands are yet to meet

Our music, yet to be shared

The day we drown

In the symphony of our souls

I do not see in the stars above me

Yet I want to believe in

I want to live for.

~ C. Carson

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Elsie was dusting their small shared bookshelf one summer evening. Her husband fast asleep on the comfortable armchair with the newspaper still open on his lap. The long hours of the summer day was drowned in a soft yellow light and Elsie took upon dusting the bookshelf while Charles was sleeping, a task that she ended up procrastinating involuntarily almost always. She reached up on her tip toes to first book on the top most shelf and her hand slipped accidently, causing the adjoining book to fall on to the floor with a soft thud.

She quickly turned around to see if she had disturbed her husband but seeing a peacefully sleeping Charles completely oblivious to the worries of the world, she turned back to her work with a sweet smile. She bent down carefully (her knees were certainly not what they were a decade ago) and picked up the book that was lying open on the ground. Charles' old copy of "The Scarlet Letter" that she had gifted to him several years ago. When, she could not remember. She remembered how he often succumbed to her variant and much more relaxed taste in fiction following a bit of gentle teasing and coaxing and smiled.

How such a simple object holds such a lot of memories and emotions together, she pondered. A simple gift it was, wrapped in a bit of coloured paper that was left over from the gift wrapping for the family. That was all she could afford at the time. It was much actually than wrapping it in the cheap brown paper that she could afford. But it was a gift that she hoped and knew that he would treasure.

As she lifted the book from the ground, a yellowed piece of paper folded neatly in two drifted out of it and fluttered on to the floor, gracefully in the still air. Curiously she picked it up and opened it. Her eyes dancing across the neat handwriting upon the paper. And tears drowned her blue eyes as she read the familiar signature signed beneath the beautiful and heartfelt words. Her heart erupting with love and joy.

She had loved him for long. A love that was a small seed in the very depths of her heart which grew slowly into a magnificent tree without her notice. Well, to be honest, she did notice but she buried it deep and tried to put it off her mind knowing that the possibilities that he would love her back, that he would act upon any loved he possessed for her were dangerously low. But now… now she had everything she had ever hoped for. Everything she had ever hoped for.

Gently holding the paper in her hand, like a child holding a butterfly afraid that it'll destroy the gentle beauty if the touch was even a tiny bit more, she turned towards the sleeping form of her husband. Her eyes gauged the evening light playing upon his face and highlighting the shadows. His gentle snoring that didn't seem to disturb the wind. And for probably the billionth time in her life, she fell completely in love with him again. Truly and completely, in the blissful knowledge that their souls finally got to dance together.

**The End.**

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**Thank you so much for your reviews! I'm so glad that you liked the previous snippet. I really didn't expect it. Next chapter would most probably be the one that Chelsietx requested, where Charles' reads to Elsie the poem he wrote named "Scottish Rose" the one in the previous chapter. For now I hope you like this one!**


	3. Whispers of Flowers

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I do not obtain any economic benefit out of them. **

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Chapter 4: Whispers of Flowers

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And in the wind

Came whispers of flowers

That were jealous of the endearments

I spoke to her

Jealous of the way I caressed

her auburn hair

But not their rosy petals.

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The words glided easily through his mind and took the form of a poem when he stayed awake watching her bare body draped across his in the darkness, silver moonlight peeking through the gap in the curtains in one harsh line and filtering through the flowery curtains in a much softer shade illuminating the room yet still leaving sufficient regime for the darkness. The mystique level of silence and darkness that he had grown fond of over the years. A silence he can now spend subtly watching and gently exploring with his hands and eyes his beautiful wife instead of staring at the attic ceiling with loneliness screaming through his ears and shooting through all his veins.

Her chest rising and falling as she took deep, slow breaths in her sleep. Breaths which occasionally turned quick and shallow and he couldn't help but wonder what dreams played in her mind. Sleep was yet to conquer him as he watched the moonlight play across the now varying shades of her once full auburn hair, twisting a curl on his finger or gliding all fingers through the heavy tresses, carefully, gently so as not to wake her from her land of dreams.

He had imagined all sorts of things about her for decades. The way she pins up her hair in the morning and takes it down in the evening. From the way the comb would slide through her smooth tresses to the way the cotton and silk would slide upon her pale skin. But this, but this that lay before his eyes, this intimacy, this beauty, was way beyond what he had imagined.

She completed him in ways he never imagined were possible. And in her breathy sighs and passionate proclamations of love, his name spoken in her lilting Scottish tones coloured in beautiful shades of passion, he fell more in love with her. With every passing second he felt he loved her more than the last.

He traced his finger across the constellations of freckles scattered upon the soft skin of her back.

"Charles," Elsie whispered still half in sleep's hold, raising her head an inch or two from his chest. Her eyes half lidded, dam lashes fluttering.

"Elsie?" he called softly, his hand stroking her auburn hair now scattered with grey strands. His fingers gliding through the soft strands and ending at the nape of her neck. He tickled the wisps of hair there, eliciting a sleepy laugh from his wife.

She scrambled forward rather clumsily towards his face pushing one of her elbows down on to the mattress. But getting to her goal wasn't a task she was up to in her half-awake state, therefore Charles leaned down towards her. The fingers of his other hand caressing her cheek.

Ever so softly he touched his lips to hers and slightly deepened it. His fingers still against her cheek and her neck. He lingered for a moment and pulled away.

She flopped back against his chest, her hair fanned over him and tickling his sides. The fingers of one of her hands ghosting over his side and the other moving through his greying chest hair.

Maybe the flowers were truly jealous of her. For in his eyes, there was no flower more beautiful than her.

**The End.**

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**Thank you so much for your reviews! I never expected such lovely reviews from you to this purely random ramblings. But I'm so glad that you like them. See you with a new chapter! (And please don't hesitate to leave a review on your ideas about this chapter too. I'm so grateful.)**


	4. A Thousand Springs

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I do not obtain any economic benefit out of them. **

**There has been a slight mistake in my formatting. This is chapter 4 and the former was chapter 3. And thank you TgrLady for bringing it to my attention. As to your request I'll try my best to fulfil it *blushes* : )**

Chapter 4: A Thousand Springs

_16__th__ May 1925 _

_A thousand springs dawned upon me on a single day. No flower shone more brightly that spring than she, who I made my own. _

_C. Carson. _

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Charles Carson wrote quickly on the small notebook that he took out from the inside pocket of his coat with a fountain pen, a gift from Mrs Hughes, now his bride who slept peacefully with her head upon his shoulder as the train gently rocked from side to side. Her head slightly swaying against his shoulder due to the movement of the train. Her welcome body heat seeping through his tweed.

Seeing that the ink had dried he placed it back again in his pocket and turned towards the open window. The Downton landscape had now disappeared and they were heading far from the familiar country side. Scarborough was still many miles away. And between the green fields of Downton and the crashing blue sea waves of Scarborough, the space between which they were just husband and wife instead of Butler and Housekeeper, Charles Carson couldn't have been happier.

Raising a single one of his large fingers he softly tucked behind her ear a few strands of hair that had escaped her fine hairstyle and fallen onto her face. The few stray strands reminded him of the hours before of the wonderful waltz when he held her close and twirled her around in all her grace and also the way her bright blue eyes lit up as she reeled around to tunes of her motherland.

In his mind's eye he pictured a young Elsie Hughes with deep auburn hair in a barn lit by lamps, wildly clapping her hands and reeling as the merry notes of the fiddle and the pipe took flight. Hair escaping confines. The cold lost in the midst of the outpouring excitement. If he knew her then…

He doesn't let himself complete that sentence. Mourning for times lost would never bring them back and that he knew. After years of longing, she was his. By his side as she had always been, but now he can proudly smile as and let his hand rest on her back when they passed through busy corridors or narrow doorways. He can tuck her hand in the crook of his hand when they walked to the village or to the church. He can watch her without being judged for it. They can be as close as two people can for the rest of their lives.

He looked down the woman who loved for so many years, leaning against him. Her lovely warmth radiating towards him. She was now his wife. The most precious thing he could ever ask for. The greatest gift that God ever bestowed upon him.

And he gently entwined his fingers with hers, careful not to wake her, knowing that in a few hours time, their souls too shall entwine in the most intimate and loving way possible.

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**The End. **

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**Thank you so much for your kind reviews! They make me so happy and keep me motivated. I am very grateful to you all for your time taken to let me know your ideas. I can only blame my busy schedule for my irregularity in updating, but I try my best to update as soon as I am able to. : ) See you soon with a new chapter! **


	5. Rose Petals and Fire

**Disclaimers: None of these characters belong to me and I do not make any economic benefit out of them.**

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Chapter 5: Rose Petals and Fire

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Rose petals touch rose petals

Her lips on mine

Lightening streaks through the very fibres

Through which life flows from our hearts.

Love was a dance we danced together

To the tune of idle winds among pine trees

Gently wrapping the other in love

But oh that beautiful touch

Kindled the flames we were afraid to face

And that light blinded me

That passion burnt me

And your blue eyes healed me.

~ C. Carson

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"That was _some _day! I can tell ye," Elsie called out as she stepped inside the door, an expression of weariness written all across her face.

Charles came towards the door the door, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. Eyeing her husband, Elsie couldn't imagine how he ended up being this carefree when he was the epitome of elegance and perfection in his role as Butler.

He helped Elsie out of her coat. Though training as a Butler had taught him perfectly how to help ladies in an out of coats without touching them at all, he didn't try to apply this knowledge in his married life. He did, in the very early days of their marriage but the when he saw Elsie's lovely smile that was reserved only for him, or the tired face she revealed without hiding it behind the well-practised strong persona, all his etiquette melted away. As always he let his fingers tips brush along her shoulders and down her arms as he brought her green coat along with them. Reaching to hang her coat up, he watched as she bent her neck ever so slightly to remove her hat pin and placed it on the table at the corner as walked through to the sitting room, with him following her.

Unceremoniously, she plonked down on the sofa, clearly exhausted. Charles couldn't help the smile that played along the edges of his mouth when he saw this playful side to his wife. She stretched her legs and toed off her shoes, heaving a huge sigh.

"How was it?" he asked as he sat down on the chair opposite to her.

"Remind me to keep the door closed if either the Dowager or Mrs Cr- Lady Merton came knocking on it or sent anyone knocking on their behalf," she replied furrowing her eyebrows and Charles let out a soft a laugh.

"Worn you out have they?" he asked eyeing the sparks of fury shimmering beneath her eyes. He imagined how stunned the Dowager or Lady Merton would be had they had to face those sparks in full force as flames, as he did, occasionally.

"Worn me out? I'm telling ye, I'm never going to stay anywhere where I'm in the middle of that 'old bat' or Mrs Crawley!" she huffed crossing her arms in front of her.

"Lady Merton you mean?" Charles corrected, and in a flash of second he regretted it.

"Who d'ye think I bloody well mean?" she stormed out uncharacteristically.

"Mrs Carson!" he exclaimed, a good portion of the surprise very real.

"Don't ye Mrs Carson me Charles!" she stormed out them mumbled under her breath, "dinnae ye ken that ah muckle mair than ye wull ever ken?"

_(Don't you know that I know much more than you will ever understand?) – translation._

"Got caught up in the Northern winds did you?" Charles asked chuckling at the rather adorable sight of his angry and sulking wife. As he had often told her, he did like her lot when she was angry even when her viscous temper was directed at him. In the past, maybe it unnerved him for no other housekeeper would ever dare to challenge him but now she rather liked this.

"I will tell ye what I got caught up in? The old bat and Lady Merton arguing about every single detail about the event from the flowers to the chairs and the damned ribbons! And I was the one caught up in the middle. Don't these grand ladies know anything about compromises? Do they always have to always have the things the exact way they want it to be? If they keep this up I'm giving up! Let them play whatever havoc they want with the sale. I'm not their housekeeper anymore!" she replied angrily, managing to end her speech with a frown aimed at him.

"If you're done… can I kiss you Elsie?" he asked sheepishly. A mischievous smile now gracing his lips.

Elsie's frown eased and she stared at Charles dumbfounded unable to make head or tail out of his reaction. Her eyes wide open in surprise and lips slightly parted she continued to stare at him. This certainly was not the response she expected.

"Well?" he prompted, tilting his head to the side.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, surprise getting the better of her.

He rose from his chair and sat down beside her. He raise his fingers to her temple and traced a path along her cheek and jaw and allowed his thumb to rest on her lower lip, caressing it slowly. Elsie looked on mesmerised, her anger from earlier forgotten only love for this dear man now consumed her. He leaned down and she closed her eyes.

Soft lips touched soft lips.

Lips parted against lips.

Tongues explored well known spaces with love and reverence.

Two souls danced, tracing the colours of love.

Breaths exchanged like holy vows.

Finally, boundless love for each other overwhelming them.

They pull apart. Lungs demanding breaths denied in the name of love. Eyes lost in the depths of the other. The lines of love and passion blurred.

Charles was the first to form a sentence, "How I love you Elsie," he whispered as much as his rumbling voice allowed him to. Never reaching the volume of an average whisper.

"Oh Charlie," Elsie sighed, tilting her head to a side to take in the sight of her beloved husband in open admiration for her, "Even when I am angry?"

"Especially when you are angry," he chuckled, a mischievous note now making its way into his voice.

And he leaned down to kiss her again. To feel her rose petal lips on his. To see the flames of passion burst ablaze in full force. And to let her blue eyes heal him like always before.

**The End. **

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**Thank you so much for all your reviews! I had a couple of exams so I couldn't update. But now I've got vacation! Anyway, hope you liked this chapter. I'd say this is not much in the way of my usual style, but a bit of experimenting doesn't hurt every once in a while. The translation for the line that Elsie speaks in Scots is given right below it in italics. Sometimes I find it annoying having to go down to the author's notes to check for the meaning so I thought it would be convenient for you. I wouldn't do that for a substantial portion of dialogue or where several lines are present but hope you don't mind it here since it's only just one sentence. Also the Scots is entirely out of a translator on the internet. And also reviews are much appreciated! Hopefully let's meet with a new chapter.**


	6. Coming Home

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me and I do not obtain any economic benefit out of them.**

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_Pure fluff : ) Enjoy! And also, I've updated a new chapter on my fic "The Little Lady and the Housekeeper" today too! _

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Chapter 6: Coming Home

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I wonder if I ever loved

Before I loved her

Was it a rosy dream of a lost fantasy

That I once mourned as a lad?

For I never thought before

Love felt like coming home

And that home was her.

~ Charles Carson

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Outside a thunder storm rages across the Downton countryside. Rain beats on the window pane. It's only five in the evening but the dark rainy clouds drown the surroundings in the darkness. Only a few faint rays of sunlight dances amidst the tempestuous rain.

Elsie sits in the darkness watching the rain. She likes the rain. More specifically she was used to the rain. Rain was a frequent happening on her childhood in Scotland. But English rains are different, she thinks as the trees wail outside.

A weak candle flame sways desperately. Dancing perilously close to its death.

Cold threatens to invade her through her shawl. She wraps it even more tightly around her shoulders and shudders.

She misses Charles. He's still not up from his nap.

She misses his warmth. She misses his presence.

Her knitting abandoned on her lap. Wool taking the shape of a child's booties. The next Bates baby is on its way. Only she and Lady Mary knows. Yet. A smile is always part of Anna's face these days.

A bolt of lightning shoots across the sky. Blue light illuminates the dark room for a flash of a second. Then it's gone.

She does not hear the soft footsteps that draws close upon her, padding on the floor carefully. The thunderstorm muffles any sound. But the steps are expert ones and makes no sound themselves.

But she does feel her husband's hands upon her shoulders.

Warm. Loving. Gentle.

She leans her head behind to rest on his stomach. It almost cushions her head. Miss Sybbie is right. He is indeed a lovely teddy bear. Her eyes flutter shut as she forgets the battling winds outside and settles into his lovely warmth.

He draws her into a gentle embrace. Much like the first one they shared. Every bit as loving as that. Only more familiar.

His chin feels slightly heavy upon her head. But it's a reassuring weight. A lovely weight.

He lets go after a minute or so and the cold invades her again. How she misses him by her side every second. He sits on the chair opposite to her. He studies his wife's knitting.

"It seems as if it's never going to stop," he remarks as he rubs his palms together. She hums in reply. He looks at her knitting again and then at the slight smile on her lips.

"Was that the secret that Anna pulled you into the kitchen to tell?" he asks remembering the last time they asked the younger couple over to tea.

Elsie only smiles. Ever the secret keeper.

"I could guess you know," he challenges.

"Guess all you like. I'll keep her secret," Elsie avoids.

A particularly harsh streak of lightening passes and a deafening thunder echoes through. Elsie almost jumps up with a start. Charles gets up and walks over to her.

"I think you better give that a rest darling," he says placing a hand on her working hands and stilling them. She looks at him with a frown but obeys, stuffing her knitting into her basket. He places a quick kiss on her hair. Her frown eases into a slight smile.

"Come to bed?" he asks.

"You just got back from your nap," she playfully swats his arm.

"It isn't the same without you. I feel too cold," he smiles. His eyes sparkle. She notices it and decides to oblige.

He helps her get up and they climb the stairs hand in hand. She follows him. He closes the door behind them when they are inside the room and he helps her into the bed. He climbs in beside her and wraps his arms around Elsie. She curls against his chest. Warmth surrounds them both.

Elsie falls asleep in a few moments and he listens to her soft snores. He cannot call them snores really, not compared to his snores. He runs his fingers to and fro on her stomach. Warm softness. There are still times when he fears that he would wake up only to realise that this was all a dream. But he knows it is reality. The warm and beautiful woman in his arms, the woman he has loved for more than thirty years is truly is wife. Finally. Finally. Finally. If he lost her to that dreadful, wretched disease he would never have lived. He would have had nothing to live for.

Tears form in his eyes and trickles down his cheek to fall on to her temple which is nestled beneath his chin. His ragged breath blows through her hair and she stirs.

Elsie feels a wetness on her temple and registers his ragged breathing. She turns in his arms to face him. Her heart breaks when she sees him crying.

"Charlie?" she asks, her accent rolling over the syllables of his name. How he fell in love with that sound! How she loves how his name rolls on her tongue.

"Hmm" he hums not trusting his voice to reply.

She kisses his cheek. His tears leave a salty taste on her lips.

"Why the tears?" she asked in a concerned voice.

"Nothing my dear. Just me being silly," he replies with a mock laugh but she doesn't buy his feigned laughter.

"It doesn't seem like nothing mo graidh*," she whispers.

A smile lights on his face when she slips into her mother language. He always loved the delicate and strong notes of Gaelic roll on her lips.

"I just remembered how I almost lost you," he replies accepting defeat.

"But you didn't," she smiles and raises her hand to touch his cheek.

"I was lucky."

"I am the lucky one Charles."

"I believe I am the luckier one."

"We are both lucky," she finishes delicately placing her index finger on his lips. His watery eyes glisten when another streak of lightning flashes. She leans her head a bit forward to place a quick on his nose. He captures her lips in his and kisses earnestly.

His hold on her tightens. She notices that the tremor isn't present. It's never there when he holds her in his arms or when he touches her in his reverent and loving touch. Not even when he holds Miss Sybbie up in the air even though he settles her firmly on the ground after a few moments. Master George is never one for heights.

His kisses move to her cheek and then her jaw. Then slowly down to her neck. He clasps his waistcoat tightly and closes her eyes giving in to his attentions. His hands caress her back, daring to move lower at each stroke. But he pauses to look at her. Pleasure written on the lines of her face.

She opens her eyes and they drown in each other's gaze, smiles gracing their lips.

"How are you so warm Charles?" Elsie asks snuggling impossibly closer to his chest. His breath as he softly laughs at her question tickles her forehead.

"I suppose I was meant to be a teddy bear for a certain Scottish girl," he chuckles.

"Wonder who that lucky girl must be," she plays along.

"One with blue eyes, auburn hair, a beautiful smile and a temper fiery than the strongest whiskey."

She rolls her eyes, "How do you manage to relate everything to liquor?" She is amused the surprised look he gives her.

"I used to be a Butler you know lass," he kisses her forehead.

"Oh really? A fine one you must have been."

"So they say," he smiles rather proudly, "but the finest was a certain housekeeper."

"Or was she now?" she rolls her eyes again.

"Absolutely. She managed to seduce me, that Scottish minx," he laughs. She swats his chest playfully and puts on a mock frown.

"It's true! That lovely walk on the stairs. I couldn't bear to walk behind her. That shy smile. That is heaven," he says and she feels a bit proud.

"Heaven is it now? What have you done with my Charles Carson the Butler of Downton Abbey and who is this sappy romantic?"

"One and the same my darling," he leans down to kiss her again. His hand gently slides to and fro along her side, gliding upon her curves. She still wears a corset, has done for so many years, and she can't imagine how she would survive without it. It gave her support and it was her armour since she was young lass of fifteen. She is sixty five now and she still doesn't want to dispose of it. It is almost a part of herself.

The rain beats on the window panes and the sound is deafening but Elsie is unaware of anything around her except for his lips on her and hers on his. So is he, honestly he didn't really care about the storm that rages like an angry beast outside. All that matters is having her in his arms.

She doesn't feel him remove the two top buttons on her blouse. She is too preoccupied with the tingling sensation upon her lips. It's only after he's removed the buttons halfway down blouse that she realises what he has been doing. Only when the cold air of the rainy afternoon hitting her chest that she realises.

His kisses move down and she holds his head down tightly against her, diving into the sensations he plays upon her skin like a skilled musician engrossed in an instrument. He is a musician in one, she thinks. A random thought that bubbles amidst the oblivion he weaves around them. He is a musician eliciting sounds she ever thought she could or she would ever make from her lips, so effortlessly.

He pushes the blouse over shoulders and the cold air hits her now sensitive skin. She shudders as the cold pulses through her body. But in a moment the cold is lost when he resumes placing warm kisses upon her skin.

Finally she manages to work the button of his shirt with trembling fingers as he nuzzles her neck. And she manages to push it off his shoulders. He leans back to shrug it off his arms and helps her out of her blouse, tossing both garments rather carelessly on the floor.

Together, they savour the intimacy. Two souls living as closely as they could.

Outside, the rain has stopped and the sun peeps out upon lush green countryside.

**The end. **

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*** my darling in Scottish Gaelic**

**Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews! I'm so glad that you like this series of scenes. I wasn't so sure about them when I first started posting. Since I'm having vacation I'll be able to update more frequently. Thanks again and see you soon with a new chapter. **


	7. Blue

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I certainly do not obtain any economic benefit out of them. **

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Chapter: Blue

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Light plays tricks on her eyes

Magic woven upon her blue universe

Light, like the early cornflowers

When the wind is in her hair

And a carefree smile plays upon her lips

Deep blue, when she's caught up

In the depths of passion

Lips parted. Cheeks red.

When she speaks my name

Like a prayer, a wish

When she falls from the mountain

Of love we trekked together

Into my waiting arms

And in every shade of blue

I'll always be there to hold her.

~ C. Carson

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"No m'lass not like that," Elsie guided young's Elisabeth Bates' hand with the crayon carefully along the outline of the fish that Charles had drawn earlier for the girl to paint.

"Ye see, it's not that hard. Ye cannae let the orange go outside the fish. It's only inside the fish," Elsie chuckled and so did the child. Charles watched from his chair at his wife and her namesake tried to paint the fish with his wife's help. He noted that she probably hadn't noticed her accent had got stronger. Nowadays, more than before she had slipped into her Scottish accent in full force, completely unnoticed by her, he found it even lovelier than the toned down version of it. The syllables playing upon her lips like an elegant piece of music.

But her eyes… two bright, little sparks dancing in their blue depths to the melody floating in her voice. Picking up speed and turning brighter at every giggle of the child.

Perhaps Elsie didn't know, but he enjoyed watching her. For decades they had worked together but marriage was an entirely different adventure. He was now privy to the more intricate details of her life. The way she combed her hair in the morning and at night. The way she hummed lightly when she pottered around in the kitchen. How she erupted into smiles when there were children around her, regardless of whether they were the children from the big house or the children of her former charges.

However, his career as a Butler made him an expert at observing minute details. Sometimes, in the past, he wondered if this made him too critical but now, he was immensely grateful that he developed the skill. For now, he could store every minute detail about his beloved Elsie in the deep corners of his mind. The places where the real Charles Carson existed. The places that the rest of the world thought were non-existent in the former Butler.

The way the wind took the strands of hair, at the back of her head, into flight when they had escaped from the tight confines of her hairstyle at the end of the day. The way the light played upon the shades of her hair, now the varying colours of auburn from the grey hair that dusted her temples, to the lighter browns that shown more visibly and the deep auburns that survived the tide of time that her discovered when he ran his fingers through her hair by the dim glow of the electric light.

The blue in her eyes, a lighter shade, when she laughed at how he looked straight after returning from the garden, his sleeves rolled up, his tie askew and his hair ruffled. How it looked a tiny bit darker when she concentrated on her sewing. The summer sun light playing upon them. The flickers of the electric light mirrored in the dark depths of her eyes. The way tiny spars danced across them when they drank in the sight of him, completely. And he loved the way her eyes turned the deepest shade of bright blue, when she whispered his name as if it was a wish, a prayer, an endearment when passion glimmered in their depths as the air stood still around them. Nothing, only them. His eyes upon her eyes, gazing into the blue tinged with golden flickers of light around them.

**THE END.**

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**Thank you all so much for all your kind reviews on these little snippets of Chelsie life. And thank you all for continuously supporting me throughout this, I'm very grateful. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'd be grateful if you could let me know what you think about this in th reviews. Hope to see you with a new chapter. Thanks again!**


	8. Light of Her Soul

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I do not obtain any economic benefit out of them.**

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Chapter 8: Light of Her Soul

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It is from the light of her soul

That I see the man I forgot to be

The man that I was and I am

The man I remembered myself to forget

~ C. Carson

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Charles sat on the sofa in the living room of their cottage, a cup of hot chocolate steaming upon the coffee table in front of him. His eyes drawn to the brilliant light of the fireplace as the fire crackled on into the night. His tie loosened and his hair usually tamed by numerous amounts of pomade, ruffled now, and that stubborn curl residing carelessly on his forehead. Elsie lay across the sofa, leaning against one arm rest padded by a cushion to help her back, her feet on Charles' lap. Her steaming cup of hot chocolate still in her hands, her head leaning slightly backwards and her eyes closed. Her hair was coming undone from its neat hairstyle and a few strands of hair framed her face. Both tired after the long day at the Abbey after finally seeing the royal guests away in the morning and the family to the ball early in the evening. Their walk back home to their cottage was a slow and peaceful one as they chatted about the million trivial things that went on in the household and laughed carefreely about several things. The night air still and calm around them.

"Elsie?" he called softly taking his eyes off the fireplace and focusing on the serene expression on his wife's face.

"Hmm?" Elsie hummed in response, her eyes still closed as Charles watched the bright light of the fire and the dim light of the electric lights as they played upon her face. A sight he would cherish forever if he could.

"Did you… ever think that we would end up here?" he asked looking at her expectantly.

Elsie opened her eyes and blinked, an innocent and rather clueless smile on her face. "What's brought this on?"

"Oh nothing, nothing. Just… you know seeing us like this… I just wondered," he smiled in return, love creeping from around the edges of his smile, only to invade his eyes and then his whole face.

Elsie sighed and looked at the fireplace. "No. I suppose I didn't. I wished of course, but I thought the chances were infinitely slim."

"Then, what did you think?" he gently pushed her further.

"I don't know. Work for almost forever, which would have probably been till my hands are too weak to hold a pen let alone a tea tray. One day, just keel over dead. Or… not wake up in the morning. No one caring about it," she replied with a bitter laugh, her gaze still fixed on the fireplace.

Charles easily read between her lines, the grim life that she thought would be her future. His head tilted to the side as he watched her. "I'm sorry I made you wait… for _this_," his eyes travelling around the cosy room and finally resting back on her.

"Oh Charles don't say that," she looked up at him and the traces of welling tears glistened from the light of the fire. "We got there at the end didn't we?" she smiled radiantly, trying to blink away the tears.

He looked down at her feet and stroked the tips of her toes. "But still…"

"I have a life I never thought I could have. Neither you nor I can pull back the past Charlie but we can make the best of the present. And I am happy here… with you… more than I could ever bring to words," Elsie said and Charles' eyes met hers. A weak smile dancing on his lips.

"Truly?" he asked. He was sure of her words of course, but hearing them another time added to his joy.

Elsie laughed seeing his puppy dog eyes. "Truly, you old booby," she replied mischievously and an overjoyed smile crept into Charles' eyes. "And what did I say that day… we are getting on Mr Carson you and I. We can afford to live a little," Elsie smiled and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

Charlie chuckled and pinched one of her toes sharply as a retort to the "old booby" part of her little speech.

"Owww," Elsie squealed and dug the heel of her other foot, hard in to his thigh.

"It's tit for tat then Mrs Carson?" Charles raised an eyebrow after a sharp intake of breath, determined not to hiss in pain.

Elsie gave into the temptation of her mischievous thoughts and stuck out her tongue, making a face at him.

"Oh that's how you want to play, do you Elsie," he chuckled as he proceeded to tickle her feet as she squealed with laughter trying to catch her breath as well, struggling and failing to remove her feet from his grasp as she held on tightly to her cup afraid it might fall off. Charles couldn't contain his mirth and gave into the laughter letting go of his wife's feet, grateful than ever for this life of his.

**The End. **

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**Thank you everyone for all of your lovely reviews on the previous chapters. I had the poem for this chapter written down for a long time without a matching story for it and here it is, finally! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And I'd be grateful if you could let me know in the reviews what you thought about this chapter. Thanks again and see you soon! **


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